


Sing About the Better Things

by faynia



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Fix-It, Gen, Irondad Secret Santa 2019, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faynia/pseuds/faynia
Summary: “He is weird,” Harley agrees, “He never made a single applesauce ornaments as a kid. Which,” he continues with a foe serious expression, “is definitely a crime in at least sixteen states including this one.”“Petey,” Morgan rounds on him and grabs his arms. “Petey, Spider-man can’t be a cring-a-crimbinal! You gotta help!”
Relationships: Harley Keener & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 151
Collections: Iron Dad Secret Santa 2019





	Sing About the Better Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rebel-author-chick](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rebel-author-chick).



“I swear to God, Parker, this shit-“

“That’s a mommy word,” Morgan points out from where she’s kneeling on a barstool, fuzzy monster slippered feet dangling over the back. “That’s two-fifty in the no-no jar, Harley.”

Harley doesn’t even pause to acknowledge her. “-is about as easy as it gets.”

“Which God?” Peter’s nose wrinkles as he glances at the older boy. “Did you get Thor’s number and you didn't share it?”

“And if I did, you'll what? String me up by my toes?”

“I-You-“ Peter splutters and shakes a finger at him and then at Morgan who starts giggling madly next to him. “Rude. Why are you like this? Nobody asked you to be like this. I know for a fact Morgan didn’t ask you to be like this, right, MoMo?”

Morgan tilts her head to the side skeptically but she's grinning and that's really all Peter could ask for. “You’re really weird, Petey.”

“Thank you, Morgan.” Peter plants a firm kiss to the top of her head. “I try my best.”

“He is weird,” Harley agrees, “He never made a single applesauce ornaments as a kid. Which,” he continues with a foe serious expression, “is definitely a crime in at least sixteen states including this one.”

“Petey,” Morgan rounds on him and grabs his arms. “Petey, Spider-man can’t be a cring-a-crimbinal! You gotta help!”

“That’s right, _Petey_ , The IronPrincess over here would have to arrest ya. I can just about see the headlines now. A Christmas Scrooge: Spider-Man apprehended for Breaking Holiday Traditions...”

“I did not ask to be in this family,” Peter mutters. He waves his hand between the two of them and groans. “You all just showed up. That’s it. I’m totally evicting everyone from this room. You're all banned.”

“Only Daddy can v-vict someone,” Morgan tells him sadly.

“Yeah, Parker,” Harley drawls, “only _Dad_ can evict someone.”

“Pepper would probably back me up if she wasn’t in the city,” Peter grumbles. When Pepper had told him that she was needed at SI in person that morning, Peter had assumed she meant for a few hours at most, but since then snow had moved in, coming down in thick, fluffy flakes that he'd never really seen in the city, and Pepper had called saying she'd be spending the night so it was up to him and Harley to make sure Tony took his medicine (a challenge) and keep Morgan fed and happy (less of a challenge), which is how they ended up here, with Peter's future career as a Christmas wrecking criminal three days before Christmas Eve.

“Come on. Come on. Come on. Petey, pleeeeeease. Please come make ornaments with us? Pleeeease? Then we can put them on the tree outside Daddy’s window and he’ll be so happy to see them!” Morgan was practically vibrating in place, clutching the edge of the kitchen island, brown eyes as wide as they could go. 

“Damn,” Harley whistles and holds his hands up. “You gonna deny her?”

Peter groans and drops his face into his hands. “Where’s the clear glue we used last weekend to make the unicorn slime?”

It took another ten minutes to get an extremely short list of ingredients. Including two giant bottles of cinnamon and a whole can of applesauce that he refuses to believe anyone in this house would even know exists let alone ordered based on the sugar content alone, and they’re back with two counters lined with taped down parchment paper and a mixing bowl that covered Morgan’s head and shoulders. Peter wasn’t entirely sure he believed this would come together the way Morgan and Harley told him it would, but after watching at least four different YouTube videos that offered extra tips and Morgan whipping out some seriously solid looking cookie cutters, Peter conceded that it would probably be fun even if it didn’t strictly work.

Maybe, even, it would use up the rest of the glue and Pepper won’t be quite so upset with the amount of slime that got caught in Morgan’s laundry. He was already responsible for ruining two of Morgan’s favorite shirts.

He wrapped one arm around Morgan’s waist and lifted her up onto the counter and handed her the largest wooden spoon they had found.

“Don’t let go.”

Peter hums and moves to step away, letting his fingers stick to her shirt. She lets out a squeak as he starts pulling her with him. He laughs and pushes her back next to the bowl.

“Jesus, you two are gross,” Harley fake retches into the empty bowl as he dumps the entire container of applesauce into it. “If I tried that with Abbs, she’d smack me round the head.”

“Jealous?” Peter asks, swiping a finger through the applesauce and popping it into his mouth.

“Terribly,” Harley deadpans and goes back to unscrewing one of the bottles of cinnamon. “Mo, you gotta stir this in nice and even or it ain’t gonna work. Got it?”

Morgan nods, expression dutifully serious as she raises her spoon into position.

What happens next defies explanation. Because it feels like he blinked and suddenly there is applesauce and cinnamon just…everywhere. The bowl bangs off the floor, Harley ends up with a face full of cinnamon and starts coughing and sneezing so hard Peter is starting to worry. 

Harley lunges toward the sink and barely has time to wrench the faucet on before he’s vomiting into the basin. Morgan is crying, shrill tears and scrambling on the slippery surface of the countertop and would probably have rolled right off if Peter hadn’t kept a firm hold on her as he tried to turn her away from Harley so she wouldn’t have to watch. She’s covered head to toe in applesauce and snot as he lifts her into both his arms, murmuring nonsense noises in an attempt to calm her as he moves around the kitchen, letting his spidey-sense lead him through the applesauce splattered floors to the cabinet that housed the kitchen towels. He snagged two, grabbing at the head of the already running faucet and soaking first one and then the other towel. He grabs a mug hanging from beneath a shelf and fills it with cool water, setting it beside Harley’s left arm. Morgan is still whimpering in his arms as he raises a towel to her face, to clean off the applesauce boogers and tears.

He remembers May doing this when he was little. They’d been trying to bake Ben a birthday cake when the mixer sent the metal mixing bowl flying, cake batter hitting every available surface, leaving both of them stunned.

Until Peter started bawling. May had spent several seconds just staring at the mess before she scooped Peter up into his arms, sat down in the cake batter, and cuddled him until he’d calmed down. 

It wasn’t because he was hurt. 

He’d been scared. 

With that in mind, he readjusted his hold on Morgan and let her look around the room. “Look,” he points out. “Harley’s okay. He just had to get the cinnamon out of his mouth. It’s going to be okay, MoMo. Remember when we made elephant toothpaste together in the bathtub? This is just like then. Everyone’s safe, kiddo. Think you’ll be able to stand up by yourself while I help Harley clean himself up? And then maybe we can try out those new mop shoes you made with Happy.” He grins at her. “Maybe if we’re lucky, your mom won’t even know this happened.”

“And then juice pops?”

Harley groaned softly and lifted his head to blink at the two of them. “S’fine with me.”

“And then juice pops,” Peter agrees. 

Morgan struggles to get down as Peter carefully lowers her to the ground. The whole room is a disaster and Peter goes to help Harley clean his face when the sound of one of the bar stools scraping across the wood floor stops him. Morgan drags the stool up to the side of the sink and climbs up on it. 

She holds a hand out for the towel in Peter’s hand. “Towel, please?”

Peter blinks, catches the blank look on Harley’s face and then shrugs, draping it over Morgan’s head. She yanks it off with the cutest scowl Peter has ever seen but it’s gone in a flash as she starts talking softly to Harley, pawing at his face with the towel. The words are practically the same he’d been saying to her moments before and while they’re both occupied, he wanders off to find the slipper mops Morgan had created. 

He hadn’t expected to see Tony sitting down at the top of the staircase. His pajama top hangs loose and sideways with one sleeve pinned to the shoulder. His eyes are closed, but Peter can hear the unevenness of the man’s breathing.

Peter worries the inside of his cheek for a moment before taking the steps two at a time and stopping a few steps below. Eye level.

And out of reach because the urge to just stick himself under Tony’s arm and haul him back to his and Pepper’s bedroom is super strong and Peter is covered in way too many body fluids and food and while it’s not his fault (SOMETIMES IT IS NOT HIS FAULT, TONY) he wouldn’t want a hug from him either.

He clears his throat uncertainly when Tony doesn’t seem to react to his presence. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony ignores him or rather grunts at him, and it’s then that Peter notices the weird rhythm isn’t just Mr. Stark’s breathing but also his heart, beating wildly and too, too fast. The man’s hand is trembling where he’s clutching his pants, sweat beading his forehead. 

Peter spares a thought for Harley and Morgan still in the kitchen but all he can hear from them is the splashing water in the sink and Harley talking softly to Morgan about how glad he is that’s she’s taking care of him and how sorry he was for scaring her, and it’s enough for Peter to make a decision. He doesn’t hesitate this time, vaulting the last few steps to wedge himself between Tony and the wall, already dragging the man’s one arm around his shoulders to bring him to his feet. His own heart hammering against his chest.

“Mr. Stark, tell me what I need to do.”

Dr. Cho had been there this morning, but had gone back to the city with Pepper and Happy, leaving Peter and Harley in charge of the house. It’d only been two months. Two months since everyone had come back. Two months of Tony being in a medically induced coma as doctors and surgeons and neurologists did their work to repair the damaged muscular and nervous systems. Two months to begin growing skin grafts to replace the deadened skin all along Tony’s left side. Two months of sitting in a hospital wing upstate with the best medical minds working around the clock to keep Tony alive. And only five days since he’d been released to go back home where he could continue to heal and begin to live his life again. 

He’d been resistant, at first, not ready, or just-Not wanting to be in the way as they settled Tony back into the home he’d built with Pepper and their daughter when Morgan had shown up outside the apartment he and May had found about a month ago now, hands on her little hips, lips pursed and eyes wide and angry, declaring him the stupidest big brother she’d ever had and he had left her AGAIN and then she’d broken down in tears that had caused Peter’s heart to break into a million sharp pieces.

Peter threw himself into Tony’s recovery after that, reading up on every procedure he knew Tony had gone through, what recovery looked like for muscle loss and damaged nerves and begging F.R.I.D.A.Y. to give him access to Tony’s medical file and being stunned when he was granted it. He learned the next night that Pepper had allowed it, because of course she would. She understood just as well what it felt like being forced to wait when someone was in trouble. 

He’s not sure if it’s his touch or his words, but Tony suddenly gasps like he’d been drowning, head swinging around to stare at Peter like he hadn’t even known Peter had been there the whole time. Peter tries for a grin, but can already tell it fell flat when Tony drags his hand up Peter’s back and cups the back of his head. 

Tony swallows and Peter can practically feel the thickness of it. “It sounded-“

Oh. OH. Peter really is the stupidest, isn’t he? “We’re fine. Mr. Stark. We’re fine. Mo is helping Harley in the kitchen, and they dropped Pepper’s big metal mixing bowl, and it kind of –“ Peter mimed a minor explosion with his hands, “but everyone’s okay. We’re- You’d actually be pretty impressed,” he says, changing tracks, “I think they got applesauce on the ceiling. Definitely on the doors of the top cabinets. Harley snorted some cinnamon up his nose. Which was _gross_. So that’s-that’s what happened.”

“Applesauce?” Tony asks, color slowly coming back to his face. 

Peter nods and shrugs a shoulder. “Would you believe I was trying to be a voice of reason for once?”

Tony barks out a rough laugh and pulls Peter in closer until his head was resting on his shoulder. “Kid,” he chokes out, “ _Nobody_ would believe that.”`


End file.
